Leaving: Goodbye is not Forever
by Tmrpotterhead250
Summary: Molly was always good at leaving. But she always comes home. Newsie one-shot with your favorite King of Brooklyn


**Hello Fansies :)**

 **All of my readers are probably like, 'how come she keeps publishing one-shots when I have two unfinished stories on hiatus?'**

 **The answer to that is that I have sorta lost steam. It's summer now and I have lots of free time but I feel like I've hit a brick wall. I still intend to at least finish those stories, sometime in the future. But for now please enjoy these fun one-shots.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own anything but my OC.**

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 _Leaving: Goodbye is not Forever_

"C'mon, we'll find you a place ta stay foah da night."

Molly looked blankly at the small boy talking to her. He couldn't have been more than a year older than her.

"You wanna starve?" He asked sarcastically.

Molly took his hand, wobbly getting to her feet.

"I'm Spot."

"Molly."

Molly looked back at the alleyway. She followed Spot, hoping for a better life than what she was leaving behind.

...

"I have to leave."

Spot watched Molly pack with a blank face. "Why?"

Molly looked up, meeting his cold blue eyes. "I haveta make my own way in life. I can't stay in a Newsboy Lodging House. I'm a goil and it's gettin' harder to hide. Plus, I found a nice littl' apartment to live in. It's abandoned and close to my new job."

"Why do you gotta leave? I'm da King o' Brooklyn now. You ain't in dangah."

"Because Spot, all Newsies gotta leave at some point, yeah? Well, now's my time."

Spot scowled. "I don't like it."

"No one said ya had to." Molly hugged him tightly. She was one of the few Spot allowed into his personal space. "I'll be sure ta visit."

Spot watched her go, watched her leave the Newsie life behind.

...

Molly ran up to the docks. "When were ya gonna tell me about dis?" She flung a paper at Spot's feet.

Spot picked it up, examining it smugly. "When ya came 'round again. Give me some credit. It only happened yesterday."

Molly huffed. "Fine. So how is da strike goin'?"

"Othah den some good ol' fightin' pretty well I think. We're gonna have a Newsie rally to spread the woid even more."

"Where in da world would you find a place biggah 'nough to fit all da Newsies of New York?"

"Jackie boy knows a lady who owns a big ol' theatre. She's lettin' us in."

"Oh."

"So," Spot smirked, seemingly confident with what he was going to say next. "I was wonderin' if you'd accompany me to dis rally?"

Molly stared at him blankly for a moment, processing his question. She blinked owlishly. "Are you askin' me on a date?"

Spot shrugged nonchalantly, hiding his nervousness. "If ya want."

Molly smiled brightly, surprising Spot with her happiness. "I'd be happy to."

For some reason, Molly felt like she was leaving something behind. Maybe it was her friendship with Spot Conlon or maybe it was the stability she felt before when she knew where she stood with the King of Brooklyn.

...

Molly stared at the city lights. She stood on the Brooklyn bridge, standing between the life she was leaving and the life she was entering.

"You're leaving."

Molly didn't turn around. She knew that voice. "I'll be back."

Spot didn't respond.

Molly turned around, meeting his blue eyes. "You know I havta go."

Spot grunted. "You always were good at leaving."

The words stung. "I don't do it on purpose."

"No," Spot disagreed. "But you do it with a purpose."

She couldn't deny that. She had left her old life with the purpose of finding a better one, she left the Newsie Lodging home in hopes of finding her own way in life, and now she was leaving her home to make her way in Manhattan with her new found brother.

"Maybe you're right. But I will always find my way home."

Spot grinned; an actual smile not his usual smirk. "I'm glad."

Molly leaned forward, capturing his lips with her own. The kiss was sweet, full of longing and promise.

Molly pulled back. "I will return." She whispered.

Spot nodded, hearing the truth in her words. "I'll be waiting."

Molly smiled sweetly, picking up her small bag of belongings. She turned to face Manhattan, leaving the life she had known.

Spot was right about one thing; she was good at leaving. But she was also good at finding her way back home. And her home was with Spot Conlon, King of Brooklyn.

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 **I hope you liked it. It was pretty short and I thought it sort of jumped all over the place. This idea came to me when I was trying to sleep. It refused to leave my head until I wrote it down. It might have sounded better in my head.**

 **Please review. I love hearing from my readers.**

 **Critics are always appreciated. Criticism is the key to improving your writing.**

 **Until next time Fansies**

 **Tmr_Potterhead250**


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